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Alexander Brome (Александр Бром)

On Claret


WIthin this bottle's to be seen,
A scarlet liquor that has been
Born of the royal vine;
We but nick-name it when we call
It Gods drink, who drink none at all,
No higher name than Wine


'Tis Ladies liquor: here one might
Feast both his eye and appetite,
With beauty and with taste,
Cherries and Roses which you seek.
Upon your Mistress lip and che•k
Are here together plac'•.


Physicians may prescribe their whey
To purge our Reins and Brains away,
And clarifie the Bloud;
That cures one sickness with another,
This routs by whole-sale altogether,
And drowns them in a floud.


This Poets makes, else how could I
Thus ramble into Poetry,
Nay and write Sonnets too;
If there's such pow'r in junior wines,
To make one venture upon lines
What could Canary do?


Then squeeze the vessels bowels out
And deal it faithfully about,
Crown each hand with a brimmer;
Since we're to pass through this red Sea,
Our noses shall our Pilots be
And every soul a swimmer.

Alexander Brome's other poems:
  1. The Cavalier
  2. The Prodigal
  3. The Reformation
  4. The Hard Heart
  5. The Libertine

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